Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (26 page)

He turned his
head and looked at her in return. “I’m not a coward, if that’s what you think.
I was brought up to fight, especially against people like that. But I couldn’t
do that to D’arc’.”

“They did it to
themselves. You did the right thing. And you and D'arcy have passed the trial
by fire. You can’t let this come between you
anymore
.” She gave his
hand a squeeze. “It’s time you took a stand. They’ve shown their true colours.
They’re not going to give up on their daughter. I’m sure they only wanted
what’s best for her, in their eyes, and are probably ashamed. Madame Duchamp
found you an agent didn’t she? Think of it as an olive branch. But still, they
wouldn’t be getting away with treating you like this if you didn’t keep it from
D'arcy. The secret’s been festering too long.”

This seemed to be
what Eli needed to hear. His dark eyes shone with long suppressed tears, which
clung to his long black lashes, and his lips curled and twitched involuntarily.
He gave his head a violent shake. She reached toward him and patted his arm.
This invitation was all he needed to release his pain and anger, and he wept
silently for several minutes while she held his hand between hers.

At last, he sat
up straight, wiping his dripping nose and eyes on the sleeve of his work shirt,
and stared across the room, his mood distant. He sniffed and rummaged in his
pocket for his pack of cigarettes, fishing one out and lighting it, drawing a
deep breath. When he’d regained some control, he turned to her with a watery
smile.

“Another drink?”

“Oh, God, no. I
can’t. Unless you have some tea?” She smiled back.

“No tea, but I
could make a pot of strong coffee,” he offered.

She normally
didn’t drink coffee, but she needed it tonight. And she wasn’t quite through
yet. “Even better, thanks.” He rose and went to the small kitchen. She heard
running water and cupboards and old wooden drawers squeaking. She imagined he
needed a few minutes alone to gather himself and salvage some dignity. She
waited, thinking of ways to resolve the issue.

She could smell
the coffee aroma slowly permeate the stale, oily air. When he returned ten
minutes later with two mismatched mugs of steaming coffee, she had a plan.

“I hope you like
it black,” he said. “I might be able to find some sugar, if you want, but I
don’t have any milk.” He grinned awkwardly, his composure reclaimed.

“Black is fine,
thanks,” she said, taking a mug. “I think I’ve got enough toxins in my system
for one night without adding sugar to the mix.”

Eli guffawed.
“You sound just like Simon, with your green tea and health food,” he exclaimed.

“Oh, don’t say
that.” She pressed her eyes shut, shaking her head, and looked down into her
mug of coffee, smelling the strong black acidic brew. She took a bracing sip of
the bitter liquid, and wondered if her stomach could handle it.

He sat down and
lit another cigarette, extracting a chocolate bar from the pocket of his shirt,
and made a good-humored offer by waving in under her nose. She laughed and
raised a silent hand in protest.

“Seriously.
What’s up with you two?” he slurped his hot coffee like a parched man in the
desert, and set it down, ripping open the wrapper on his candy and taking a
huge bite. He spoke past a mouthful of chocolate, his words garbled, “Besides
the conflict thing, why aren’t you two all over each other? I can see it in
your eyes as plain as day.”

Kate felt her
face flush hot, and glanced at Eli, blinking. She raised a hand to smooth her
brows, her pulse fluttering. “I can’t talk about this.”

“Why not?
Confidences go both ways, you know. After hours, it’s off the record.” He
smiled gently, inviting her trust.

She sighed, and
sipped her coffee again, seeking fortitude. How could she explain her obsession
with Simon, her fear of him, to a client and a virtual stranger? She wanted him
to trust her, but more than that, she felt she could trust him, and that their
nascent friendship justified it.

She sat back with
a sigh. “When Simon and I first met, we were just teenagers. Not unlike you and
D'arcy, I guess. But I was in a very vulnerable place when I met him. I was
suffering from a significant trauma, followed by a huge emotional loss. I was
also young and idealistic. I transferred all my idealism and emotional
neediness onto him, I guess. I imagine he broke it off because I became clingy,
and not very interesting, after a few months. That’s all there was, really, to
our so-called relationship, though it was intense while it lasted.”

Kate paused, and
swallowed, thinking. How ironic to reduce her love for Simon, and all that it
caused, to a glib summary. Eli leaned back, sucked on his cigarette, listening.

“The worst for me
came afterwards. I couldn’t let go of him—of the
idea
of him.” She
shook her head. How could anyone understand the way she had lost any sense of
reality. “It went on for a few years, though I doubt he knew. We had one
unpleasant encounter the last time I saw him— maybe fourteen years ago.” That
was one secret she would never tell another soul.

Eli looked up,
his eyes sympathetic.

“You’re not
disgusted?”

He made a wry
face and shrugged. “Everyone’s got embarrassing moments in their past.

She continued.
“After that, we lived our separate lives. I had to deal with depression, with
very damaged self-esteem. There were a few years of counseling. Then…” She
shrugged. “… a new life, a new career. I don’t have any regrets. I wouldn’t
have discovered mediation if I hadn’t gone through that. But… when he walked
into the board room… I… ”
I don’t know what.
She shook her
head, reliving the shock of that moment.

“Wow,” he said
softly. “I think I get it.” He scraped a hand across his bristled chin.

She smiled into
his eyes. “It’s not easy, as you can imagine.”

He thought a
moment, then sat up abruptly and slapped his knee. “No. Life’s too short for
regrets. There’s a reason you and Simon are together again. This was meant to
be. I can feel it. You can’t throw it away because of a little fear.” He jabbed
a finger in her direction, driving his point home.

“A little fear… ”
she chuckled under her breath.

Eli raised a hand
and held her chin, lifting her face to look carefully into her eyes. “How would
you feel, if you walked away, and never found out? This is something special.
You need to go for it, take the risk.”

How ironic was
that? She cocked an eyebrow at Eli, her look full of meaning, and dipped her
chin. He gave her a wry smile and a gimbaled eye. “I’ll make a deal with you,
Eli Benjamin. I will dig deep for the courage I need to, find out, as you say,
if this is something worth fighting my demons for. But you have to promise me
the same. You have to meet with Madame Duchamp. With or without D'arcy, that’s
your choice. But you have to let me set it up for you.” She cocked her head at
him, waiting.

They sat facing
each other for several minutes, each of them searching their soul for the
strength to commit to facing their worst fears. Then Eli offered his hand, palm
open, and she slowly slipped her hand over his, and they squeezed. Her fate was
sealed.
What have I done?

November
24, ----

Dear Roster Administrator;

I write in rebuttal to the grossly exaggerated claim
brought forward by the attorney, Sharon Beckett, that I mislead both her and my
clients by failing to disclose knowledge of a former acquaintance with…

Kate sat, eyes unfocussed, staring at the blinking cursor
on her computer screen. What a stinking pile of emotional melodrama. She
couldn’t do it.

She blinked, and hit the delete key until the screen was
blank again. Then continued to tap her fingers on the mouse pad for several
long, thoughtful minutes, gazing blindly at the balsamic moon suspended like a
slender sling in the clear night sky outside her vast windows. She heard the
distant squeal of tires outside. A faint, faraway siren echoed.

Dear Roster Administrator;

This letter is in response to the claim by Sharon Beckett
that I allegedly withheld knowledge of my client’s attorney when our past
relationship might have been disclosed at the outset. In retrospect, I see that
this is may be true. However initially I was uncertain of his identity and my
hesitation led to avoidance out of embarrassment. I convinced myself that the
fact we had not seen each other in over fifteen years…

She felt sick. Not sweaty, shaking, dizzy sick, like
staring into the dark chasm of her past tended to inspire. This was a nauseous,
tight swirling in her stomach. A burning behind her eyelids. A heavy weight
like a foot upon her heart. She knew everything she’d ever struggled with had
finally come together in this one horribly painful moment and that her actions
now would either free her or weigh her down for the rest of her days. Or maybe
not. The society review board only needed to know enough to restore her good
reputation, but Kate knew there was more going on in her heart. Even though she
knew her error was a misdemeanor, Sharon’s spitefulness still had her emotions
roiling. There didn’t seem to be an easy way out. She had to think clearly.
Again she deleted the text.

What is most important to me? What do I value? What do I
really want in life? What’s really at stake here? Questions spun round and
round in her head as she fingered her eternal knot pendant, flipping it over
and over, asking for guidance.

These should be easy questions. They were ones she’d
tackled before. Kate knew what it was like to be lost, not to know or trust
herself. She also knew what it felt like to put herself back together, one
brick, one cell, one idea at a time. Kate knew herself. She knew she cared
about people and she knew her insight and skills could help people with
problems that she understood. She understood human frailty, and she empathized
deeply with people who had screwed up and deserved another chance at happiness.

Doing this had given her life focus and meaning and joy.
She felt a deep sense of purpose and was rewarded by the life’s work she’d
chosen. This insight and commitment was what made her so particularly good at
mediation. Better than the others. It was this ability to understand and help
others that provided her with clarity and self-respect. Without this work she
wouldn’t be whole, would have so much less to offer. To her clients, to her
friends and family, and certainly to Simon or Jay or anyone else with whom she
might choose to share her life. Without that solid foundation, she would be so much
less, incomplete as a person.

And yet, despite her focus on her work and career, she
also wanted Simon’s love. She had, on some level, always wanted Simon, and even
when she questioned her own judgment, her own motives for wanting and believing
herself in love with him, she still needed him with the very core of her being.
As if her desire to be with him was a force bigger than her. Wanting him so
much had loosened the stones of her foundation years ago and begun an erosion
of her belief in herself, an avalanche of self-doubt that had nearly
obliterated her sense of self. She had rejected the dependency this notion of
romantic love had created in her. The weakness it implied. This was the reason
she was so afraid to surrender to her attraction to him. This was why allowing
herself to be near him was so terrifying. Simon somehow represented an abyss
that might, should she venture too near the edge, annihilate all that she had
become. All that she came to value about herself, and depend upon. Why was she
so afraid? Did she really fear losing herself if she surrendered to love?

And yet she still wanted his love. She wanted Simon’s
love like no other. Her every attempt at a relationship had failed precisely
because of the love she had experienced with him all those years ago and still
carried inside her like a glowing ember, a flame that refused to be
extinguished. Nothing could compare. God knows, she’d tried to love Jay. It
always came out sounding like an enumeration of his good qualities, but in the
most unfeeling, abstract terms, like a curriculum vitae for a job as husband
and lover. He certainly qualified. But she just couldn’t make herself love him
no matter how hard she’d tried. Poor Jay. Poor Grant. Poor Thom. Poor…

Kate shook her head and picked up the letter from the
Roster Administrator, re-reading the already painfully familiar lines.

Dear Ms. O’Day,

It has come to our attention… breach of professional
conduct… failure to disclose former relationship with counsel for your client,
a Mr. Simon Sharpe, esq.… Ms. Beckett’s concern for her client… standards of
professional ethics… etc. etc. opportunity to explain… Please respond by… Yours
truly, Dr. Leonard Howard, Roster Administrator.

Kate knew that Rose, her mentor and councilor, saw
everything that crossed Howard’s desk. She’d been on the executive for years
and practically ran the society. Kate closed her eyes, seeing Rose’s familiar
kind face, remembering the hours she’d sat in her office talking and crying her
heart out. The bitter memories brought a fresh flood of tears to her eyes. She
sat, wracked by silent convulsive sobs, reliving the painful exploration of her
darkest days. She had had so much going for her, and so many things that she
wanted to achieve, and had been brought so low in one, really it was just one,
black stroke of fate. All the other stuff, even her convoluted dependency on
Simon, all of that was just a complex emotional response to the first.

She felt the old anger burn in her core, the resentment
that such a mindless act of brutality and selfish disdain could cause such
havoc in a life. Her life. Yet part of her felt a contemptuous pity for the guy
that triggered it all with his vile act. And she felt sorry for her young,
helpless, idealistic self. It was time to rise above it and find some peace.
But her scars were still tender, despite all that.

Those were tough times but she got through them and she’d
thought it was all behind her. While she was glad she’d called Rose in October
to ask her advice when all of this began, she knew that meant there was nothing
she could hide now. Nor did she want to. Honesty and integrity meant everything
to Kate.

If she valued her self-respect, her professional
reputation, her peace of mind, her very way of life, the only way through this
was straight through the gauntlet. She would tell the truth, take the
consequences and piece it all back together on the other side. Even if that
meant she had to face humiliation. She was certain hers wasn’t such a terrible
transgression that she would lose her license. Even if it meant she had to walk
away from Simon. There was no other way. Determined, she returned to her
keyboard.

To the Roster Administrator and Executive of the Mediator
Roster Society of BC;

I cannot prevaricate. There are those among the executive
who know enough about my past to make the truth unavoidable. Furthermore, my
training in this honored profession has given me sufficient self-knowledge to
be unable to deny the kernel of truth in this claim and still face myself in
the mirror.

It was without a doubt unprofessional of me to avoid
disclosure of the full details of a past relationship with the attorney
assigned to my current mediation client, when I knew myself to be affected by
his unexpected reappearance. I sought guidance from my mentor and we agreed I
could move forward. In truth, I knew him intimately, and was emotionally
involved with him for some time. These issues are clearly not fully resolved
for me and my renewed and, I admit, not entirely unavoidable reacquaintance
with him has brought that to the fore.

I can, however, commit to a deferment of this personal
matter, however difficult, whatever the consequences may be, until my
commitment to my current clients has been fulfilled. This is my first duty.
Rest assured, I do have the self-awareness, confidence and discipline to carry
out my responsibilities without allowing this matter to interfere any further.

Despite the above and the fact that these events have
been a distraction to me and therefore may have compromised my efficacy as a
professional, I maintain that there is not and has never been any conflict of
interest or risk to my clients. I hold my clients’ well-being, and my
responsibility to serve them, above all else. If my confusion over this matter
has allowed any errors in perception or judgment, and I do not believe it has,
then it is within my power to correct these small lapses. I believe my
understanding of the clients in this case is as insightful and accurate as ever
and I remain committed to work to the fullest of my ability toward a
satisfactory resolution to their case. At this point, I believe my clients’
trust has not been compromised and that a mutually satisfactory mediation of
their conflict is possible, even likely. They are now both fully apprised of the
situation and have not expressed any desire to make changes to the
arrangements.

Kate hesitated, reviewing her text, considering her next
move.

I deeply regret that these circumstances have caused my
esteemed colleague, Ms. Beckett, any concern for her client, and I respect her
integrity in pursuing the matter through professional avenues. It is my
sincerest hope that, with further understanding, she will be willing to let the
matter rest.

That felt like a slight untruth. Not that Kate’s remorse
wasn’t genuine, but in her gut she knew Sharon’s motive to be less than honest,
with not a small measure of vindictiveness and manipulation behind it. But
since, short of making these unfounded accusations public, it would be the
honorable thing to say, and since she knew a copy of the letter would be sent
to Sharon, it served its purpose doubly well to give her the benefit of the
doubt. It wouldn’t do to provoke the woman considering what she had already
done.

Feeling somewhat better, she proofread and printed the
letter, signing it and sealing the envelope before she could change her mind.
She might as well put it right into the mailbox, while she was in the mood. She
stood and pulled on her coat and grabbed her bag.

A pair of lavender Fluevog Luna boots in the shop window
on the corner had been calling to her for weeks. Tall, supple distressed
leather with buckles top and bottom and chunky heels. They shouted power. Those
boots are made for walkin’. I am definitely going to buy them. She lifted her
chin, pulled her shoulders back, and entered the shop. A little recompense was
due.

On the way out the door onto the street, she practically
crashed into a tall, dark man hunched in a broad overcoat. Jay.

She felt herself shrink inward, the bubble of happiness
her boots had brought her popping. This was the very last thing she needed
right now. “Jay,” she said halfheartedly.

She noted the minute wince that registered dismay on his
handsome face. She was sorry that she couldn’t feign enthusiasm she didn’t
feel.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.

She stared at him, impassive.

“I’m not willing to let you go.” His frustration had
built, showing in the determined set of his jaw, his furrowed brow.

“I won’t change my mind.” It was harsh, she knew. But how
could he press her?

He looked crestfallen. “I love you.”

“But Jay, I don’t love you.”

“Give me a chance. We can be so good together. You’ll
come to love me in time.”

“No. I won’t.” She was impatient to go. She didn’t want
to go through this again. “Why won’t you accept that?”

“I’m as right for you as you are for me. You know it.”

“If you knew me at all, you wouldn’t say that. You don’t
know what I need.”

The muscles in his jaw bunched. “I know it’s only fear of
commitment… You have to trust me.”

“It’s not about trust. It’s not fear of commitment.” She
was starting bristle with resentment.

His eyes pulled to the side, glaring down the street.
“You don’t know your own mind. You never could make decisions.”

Kate tamped down her resentment. “That may be true, but
at least my doubts are my own.”

He grabbed her shoulders with gloved hands, pressing his
face closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it that way.” His strong,
handsome mouth stretched taut, quivering. “I miss you.” His face came closer
and he tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.

“Stop it. I’m sorry I mislead you, Jay. You deserve
better than this, but I can’t be what you want.” She squeezed her eyes shut,
gritting her teeth. “I’m in love with someone else.” She stepped back, noting
the stunned, open-mouthed expression on his face. Her heart squeezed with
remorse, her throat constricting with tears. She should have told him sooner.
If only she knew it herself. Her last words were whispered. “Leave me alone,
Jay. Please.”

She was tense, sweating, jittery, and had the beginnings
of a massive headache. Her nerves were shot. She stormed away toward the
mailbox at the end of the street and slipped her envelope into the slot with a
trembling hand. How much more could a person take in one day?